


In the Middle

by Pie_C96 (StumblesUponThis)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Beau’s a beautiful mess but that’s okay, Character Study, Drabble, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Fjord is basically the Dad of the group, Found Family, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Implied/Referenced Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Introspection, Jester is adorkable, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not!Canon, Pre-Campaign, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Self-Acceptance, Self-Indulgent, Self-Interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 13:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13459716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StumblesUponThis/pseuds/Pie_C96
Summary: In which Beauregard doesn’t much care for her full name. The shorter version’s easier on the tongue anyway.(Pre-Campaign)





	In the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This short thing is just something I wrote on my phone in a rush and not at all beta-ed! So if there’s any grammar mistakes, comment down below as constructive criticism is highly appreciated. Also, while the subject of gender dysphoria isn’t one I’m very familiar with, it is one that I tried my hand at and hoped to properly convey. It’s more like a personal subject that I’ve never touched upon, but! Here we are. Note that Beauregard’s backstory isn’t at all clear and that there’s only two episodes so this isn’t really canon. Disclaimer: I drabble in the Critical Role sandbox at times. (Title from dodie’s ‘In the middle’) I’ll probably come back to edit this at a later time. I tried to emulate Beauregard’s voice as I wrote this.
> 
> *NOTE: there are some parts that may be a trigger for some, please read the notes at the end!!!! Do tell me if it’s a bit much! Really.

Beau wasn’t what anyone had expected, much less wanted.

Well, that was what her parents told her anyway after her little roll in the hay with the neighbour’s daughter; the straw that broke the camel’s back, or something like that - back then, she didn’t care much to be the sharpest about _everything_ because _who had the_  time _when you crunched numbers, drank booze and tried to keep your head above the water that threatened to drown you with_  disappointment  _and_ disapproval  _every single damned day_ , which was another thing her parents despaired about before she left them for good.

And the thing about expectations, was that they tended to wear out their welcome as time went on, and the wants of everyone else tended to grate rather than motivate.

Her parents had expected a beautiful baby girl that was cultured, prim, and polite, one that loved dresses and pearls and doing her hair in elaborate, ungainly hairstyles she shuddered to think about caring for. They wanted a girl who’d be predictable, smart, subservient, and effeminate. One that would take charge of the family business after they realised that they were stuck with _her_ , rather than the son they’d wanted. And maybe, just maybe - if she was dealt a different hand in body parts, maybe her parents would’ve been more tolerant. Kinder. Accepting. Less pushy. It might have even lessened the urge to prove herself for all the wrong reasons.

(But it’s a thought that wasn’t worth rehashing, bitter tasting and foul in her mouth, much like that singular, humiliating morning-after from her more _adventurous_ drinking escapades, because unlike the ones where she’d wake up alone and hungover with nothing but ledgers and empty bottles for company, she had woken up in bed with bruises all over and a warm body next to her own that made her feel so _sick_ and cold - worse still when her father merely looked at her and muttered a relieved ‘ _finally_ ’ while her mother wordlessly handed her a mug of contraceptive tea -)

And it wasn’t as if she wasn’t a girl all the time - sure, she liked dress up as much as any sensible girl who worked and kicked ass on a daily basis, which was to say, _sensibly_ \- but there were days where she’d look at the mirror, frown, and try to hide away the barely there bumps on her chest with thicker cloth or bind them with linen, where the pronouns of ‘she’ and ‘her’ became more of a weighty reminder of what she was and what she looked like in everyone else’s eyes. Those were the days where’d she became louder, desperate to drown out her own thoughts with Jester’s laughter and Fjord’s smooth cadence, senses hyper aware and all too focused on the wrongness that were the parts of her that didn’t quite belong. Then there were also the days where she’d look at girls with their colourful dresses and their pretty, painted smiles, the women she’d tumble in bed with with their soft curves and ample breasts, Hell, even Jester - and wonder, _what if?_

Lately though, she doesn’t dwell on it too much. She’s accepted that she’s made her choices, questionable as they were, and will probably keep making mistakes as she goes about her days, that she’ll step on people’s toes more often than she’d like on the way, and that people will always find reasons to dislike her blunt, brash demeanour and have their expectations of her shattered in to tiny pieces.

Beau found that she liked it that way.

Because she’s got a family now, whom she chose as they had _chosen_ her, and while that family was just a group of three, ragtag messes that bonded despite all odds, she’s found solace in Fjord’s long suffering expressions and Jester’s unflappable cheer; the way Fjord barely blinked at her when she’d asked him to call her _Beau, not Beauregard please_ , and proceeded to tell her that no, he wasn’t about to let Jester and her go sight seeing without him because he’d rather not deal with the disastrous aftermath, with Jester at her side unflinching and eyes so kind Beau nearly swallowed her own tongue at the sheer amount of emotion that surged within her chest, the tiefling continuing to whine at Fjord in the same jovial, chirp-like tones, as if Beau’s request wasn’t at all odd or _wrong,_ and the usual questions like ‘ _why’_ and ‘ _do you not like the name your parents gave you?’_ never came up.

They made her lungs feel like they could actually breathe without needing to drown in the empty comforts of alcohol, like she could actually stay and feel  _wanted_ to  _stay._ Of being _Beau_ and to be wanted because (in spite) of that.

 

 

(And if at the end of that conversation, found Jester exclaiming excitedly at the dress Beau had picked out for her - a pretty blue thing that had small white panels that flared at the hem, dappled with red floral accents on its ends and felt soft under her fingers - and Fjord sighing at the two of them with something close to fond exasperation, well.

Take _that_ , mom.)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> **Beau has a one night stand with a random male stranger after drinking heavily and her mindset at the time was pretty... intoxicated. And not at all healthy nor actually present. It was more about ‘proving’ that she was, in fact, a ‘girl’, based on her parents’ expectations and their supposed norms than any actual desire to do so.


End file.
